


Lost in Translation

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo有槽无处吐的故事, Bilbo腆着张老脸整天卖萌容易吗你说, Bilingual crack!fic, I’ve completely desecrated the Chinese language, M/M, Multi, an AU in which Westron is English and Hobbitish is Mandarin, and Bilbo’s quite the pottymouth, as in it’s actually written in two languages, gods have mercy on Gandalf, his whole fixation on respectability is just a cover-up you see, please don’t arrest me, 我对不起Tolkien
Language: 中文
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An bilingual AU in which Westron is English and Hobbitish is Mandarin, and Bilbo has quite a lot to say.<br/>警告： 部分内容为中文。</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't take me seriously; I don't know what I'm doing either.

Unlike the dwarves of Middle Earth who’d always guarded the secrets of their tongue with a fervor that rivaled their lust for gold, the hobbits had no qualms about sharing their language. In fact, they would gladly teach the curious art of Hobbitish anyone wishing to learn, and learn they did—or at least, many had attempted to.

First there were the men, who as clever and adaptive as they were, for the most part never made it past the basic pleasantries. As for the rare few who did, they were often seen pronouncing (with difficulty) the names of various hobbit meals and genealogy terms with proud tears in their eyes, and were bestowed a great number of honorable titles by the hobbit community. Sadly, as was decided by the fleeting nature of human life, most perished before earning true mastery, drawing their last breathes with the sorrow that they have never tapped in to the magnificent monstrosity that was formal Hobbitish.

The elves, never to shy away from getting to the bottom of everything, too had embraced the challenge. Day after day they perfected the pronunciation of Hobbitish nouns, scribbling the fiendish curves of their hieroglyphs, yet as decades flew past and their tutors’ line passed on and on, they admitted defeat. Their lives went on, and in time, the memories of such an undertaking became naught but a distant dream…

The dwarves, of course, never bothered with anything that wouldn't directly impact the acquisition of their wealth. Thus, Hobbitish of the hobbits, a great mystery and a fascinating art, became the best-kept secret of Middle Earth.


	2. In Which Bilbo Questions His Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo must have lost his mind. Either that, or the world has gone insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say Crack, I mean Crack.  
> 口无遮拦的Sassy!Bilbo梗来自某条吐槽Martin Freeman总在扮演Bilbo时爆粗口的帖子……

How simple folks like the hobbits came to be gifted with such a convoluted language like Hobbitish, even the hobbits themselves did not know, but thanks to their nearly obsessive love for tradition, the strange language managed to survive and even prosper—if not on the tongue of the common folks, then in the books and letters treasured by the proud lines of gentlehobbits who held seasonal reading competitions in Hobbitish poetry and prose, jabbering away excitedly while the rest of the Shire looked on in collective awe.

It’s a somewhat depressing state of affairs, thought Gandalf, that such a fascinating language was showing obvious signs of decline. During those long years when the wizard was but another valiant scholar himself, Hobbitish had been commonplace among the hobbits’ version of polite society; but now, only the sounds of Westron greeted him as he prodded up the sunny little lanes of The Hill, trying his best to look both enigmatic and harmless.

So when he finally stood in front of Bag End, obstructing the sunlight of a plumb little hobbit who had been blowing out some _very_ impressive smoke rings with an oversized pipe, Gandalf had to suppress a sigh as Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna Baggins, nee Took, merely stared at him and squeaked out a wary “Good morning”.

“造上号?” He replied. It didn’t come out quite right, even to his own ears.

“早上好，” he cleared his throat and tried again. “逆是在祝我今早好呢，还是说不管我号不好今早都很好呢，嗨是硕你我进天早上都很好呢，还是说不管今早好不好逆我都很好玉是早上是号的呢？”

The hobbit known as Bilbo Baggins froze momentarily in the act of reinserting his pipe (into his mouth, thank you), his eyes caught in a battle between squinting further into incredulous slits and going impossibly wide.

“I beg your pardon?” The hobbit managed to say only after taking a few solid puffs of Old Toby. Surely, he must have lost either his mind or his grasp of linguistic differences.

Out of sheer habit, Gandalf smiled knowingly, his blue eyes twinkling in a manner that only wise-looking elderly men with excessive amounts of facial hair could pull off.

“巴金斯老爷，救违” he said.

Bilbo stared up at the impossibly tall man, and decided that he had indeed lost his mind, for try as he might, he could find no other explanation for his (rather vivid) impression that a stranger who was _clearly_ too tall and too queer to be in any way related to a hobbit, was—or rather, appeared to be—speaking to him in Hobbitish.

 “这个，” Bilbo probed cautiously, “您找我有事儿？”

The old wizards’ eyes lit up like firecrackers. “哦！这得看逆了！我正在照人结伴绿游，先生可否愿意玉我同性?”

“旅游!” Bilbo almost dropped his pipe. “自助还是组团？”

“租团,” Gandalf decided.

“组——我是说，”Bilbo shook his head, coppery curls flying. “我们这儿没人想出去旅什么游！建议您换个地儿！”

“您再靠虑靠虑——”

“不必，旅游什么的最蛋疼了，害人吃个饭都迟到！” Bilbo said with finality.

He reached inside his little mailbox for letters, and sifted through them in a decidedly dismissive manner. When the old man showed no intention of leaving him alone, Bilbo turned away rather sharply, doing everything short of performing a “shoo” motion to signify an end to the conversation.

But for the sake of courtesy, he did so only after another cheerful “good morning!”

Gandalf bristled internally, and decided it was time to change his approach:”真妹想到卧也有这一天，被Belladonna亲儿子用good morning伺候，就号像我是个卖爆险的！”

“逆变了，巴金斯烙爷,” Gandalf continued, arranging his features into an expression of disappointment. “变得不那么给力了。”

Bilbo almost chocked on his own spit.

“不好意思，我们之前认识？” Bilbo tried not to squeak.

“认识？我克是Gandalf，Gandalf—” there was a slightly dramatic pause “—就意味着卧！“

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, his mind whirling. “难道……你就是传说中的老干？内会做烟花儿的流浪巫师？老图克当年就喜欢放你那些五颜六色的玩意儿！我居然还记得——有百合形状的，还有那些长的特像金鱼草的，哦，还有火红的金链花！都太他娘的漂亮了！。”

Torn between cooing at the absurdly endearing look of longing on the hobbit’s face and rolling his eyes skyward, Gandalf resorted, in the end, to a few benevolent chuckles.

“很告兴逆还记得我！即使只是我妹丽的烟祸。那么，事清就这样定了！这对逆来说会恨好，对卧来说会很右趣,” Gandalf was all but smirking at this point. “我这就去痛知其他人。”

“痛知—”Bilbo sputtered, his tiny features crumpling in confusion. “等义下——呸，等一下！我什么时候说要去了？我们这儿可没人跟你去旅游，非要找人的话请到河对岸自便！Good morning!”

And he promptly raced inside his hobbit hole and shut the door in Gandalf’s face.

 

 

*     *     *

Bilbo Baggins活了这么大，头一次这么混乱。

小时候，他是典型的问题少年，没少闯祸，也没少沾花惹草。后来，父亲前脚刚走母亲就接踵而去，‘比尔博’很突然的发现自己成了巴金斯老爷，一人孤零零的守着他那圆滚滚的小地洞。

再后来，他很成功的给自己塑造了一亮闪闪的模范乡绅形象，觉得再没什么事能让他不淡定了。

然而，他现在很不淡定。

他大概百分之八十七确定自己应该是疯了。

自从那无论是身高，装束，还是毛发密集程度都很不对劲儿的老头子张嘴就来了几句（还算）流利的霍比特语后，Bilbo就觉得他大概是一人宅时间长了，已经开始出现幻觉。当他得知此人竟是传说中的甘道夫“老干”，并且是专门来请他去“旅游”时，Bilbo对自己的疯癫确认度直接上升了百分之二十一。

旅游你妹，Bilbo白眼都懒得翻了。要那真是去旅游，他就从今一天只吃六顿饭。

如果这一切都不是他的幻觉的话。

Bilbo在客厅里踱来踱去，折腾出一身汗。走累了，他转悠到书房，从桌上随便抓起一本书翻着看。看了半小时左右，他发现自己手上拿着的是字典。

他本来还想出门买点柠檬糕，但考虑出去了说不定会不小心再看到或者听到什么不该看不该听的，Bilbo决定他实在是饿了，于是自己去做了顿饭。

在他做完并吃完第十三顿饭后，天已经微微泛黑。吃饱喝足的Bilbo绕着厨房走了几圈后，拿出最后一条鱼，决定再来顿清淡的晚餐。

煎完鱼，Bilbo自作淡定的在桌前坐下，对自己发誓这真的是他今天最后一顿饭了。

很可惜，鱼正要入嘴的一刻，一阵门铃声很及时的吧Bilbo和他那颗扑通扑通跳的小心脏召唤到了门前。

Bilbo屏息打开门，看清门口的来人后僵立几秒，差点没憋岔气。

“您好？”Bilbo试探着问。

一位快比门高的矮人很空洞的看着他。

“您哪位？”Bilbo忍不住再确认一遍。

矮人莫名其妙的盯着他几秒，然后耸耸肩，推着们就自己走进来了，差点把扶着门的Bilbo撅一个跟头。

入洞后，他拖着脏靴子在门口环顾了一番，然后才深深的鞠了一躬。

“Dwalin, at your service.” 他说着一掀兜帽，露出一个看起来十分霸气的秃头。

Bilbo听到这话眼泪都快下来了，差点上去抱住他亲几口。原来中土并没有在一夜间都学会了霍比特语，早上的对话也应该不完全是他的幻觉。

“Bilbo—Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo强忍着上下跳跃的冲动，感激涕零的说。

Dwalin已经自顾自的脱掉了大衣，动作自然把衣服随手扔给Bilbo: “So, where’s the food? He said there would be supper. ”

“Oh! Supper, or course. It’s down here, if you would follow me …” Bilbo十分热情的说。

当第二个，第三第四个，后来一整坨矮人（外加一个老巫师）成批的不请而来，Bilbo就不觉得那么热情了。尤其是在这些矮人开始清空他的食品储存室的时候——他几乎是带着一声咆哮着把他那几颗宝贝番茄夺回来的。要不是那打他番茄主意的锅盖头矮人用很无辜的小萌眼神看着他，当晚估计会发生流血事件。

“I just wanted to try some, they look nice,”锅盖头可怜巴巴的慢慢说。

“Well yes,” Bilbo差点心肌梗死。“These are my _prize-winning_ tomatoes, which is why they are definitely _not_ for sampling!”

矮人很困惑的看着他。

“Or for eating!”

“What are they for then?”矮人看上去真心好奇。

“They’re for—for special occasions!” Bilbo盖过噪音大吼道。但看到锅盖头那一脸委屈的小样儿，Bilbo叹口气，最后还是给了他两颗。

后来发生的事，Bilbo已经无力吐槽了。有个年轻的矮人（鬼记得丫叫什么）甚至整个人爬到了他的 _餐桌_ 上，杯里的麦芽酒撒的满哪都是。Bilbo幻想着他把两杯一块儿泼到Gandalf脸上，看他还能不能笑的一脸和蔼。

矮人们吃饱喝足，继续搞破坏；而Bilbo这时终于把Gandalf拉到一边：“老头子，这到底是怎么个情况？这帮矮人哪来的？”

“哦，逆是说这些科爱的挨人们？”

Bilbo快哭了。“我求你了，赶紧带他们从哪来回哪去，最好是在我家变成猪圈之前！”

Gandalf笑的又慈祥又深邃。Bilbo站在走廊里，想象着自己脑袋能真冒出黑烟。

“—excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt,”小锅盖头(Ori，如果Bilbo没记错的话)不知从哪又钻了出来，价值不菲的碟子端在手上。“But what should I do with my plate?”

接下来的经历， 被Bilbo很坚定的封存在记忆的最深处。当他最终悲愤的站在一摞摞快堆到天花板的盘子面前时，他差点都没注意到那门漆快被敲掉的声音。

“He’s here.” Gandalf深沉的说，十分庄重的亲自冲过去开门。

“Gandalf,”一个低沉而动听的声音说。 “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice.”

Bilbo伸着脖子往门口瞧去，正准备打招呼，结果看清来人的面目时差点把舌头吞下去消化了。

_哦。_

_我果然是疯了。_

要不然，世界上怎么会有如此美貌的人？而且还是个矮人。

那黑色少带highlight的秀发，那可爱的毛茸茸的胡子，还有那美丽诱人的宝石般的大 _眼睛_ 。

Bilbo觉得自己快死了。他已经听不清四周的对话，只能直勾勾的盯着矮人那绝美的身影，咽着口水看他解下身上的披风。

“—the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf似乎在说。

Bilbo如梦初醒的眨眨眼睛。

 “So,” 美人向前迈一步，美艳的脸都快贴上Bilbo的脑袋了。

“This is the hobbit,”

“嗷，”Bilbo说。

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 我都写了些什么啊……


	3. 美人与番茄

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin found himself eating tomatoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google translate is my new best friend.
> 
> Bilbo: "Do not have to travel to what most egg pain, harm to eat a meal late!"

The great and majestic Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thor, rightful heir of Durin himself, had never felt more uneasy as he hustled across the green meadows and little hills of the Shire, trying not to make too much of a racket or trample anything in his way.

 The landscape appeared as if someone had accidentally digested a large quantity of highly saturated paint and decided to empty their stomach across the lands, for each and every corner of the place is filled with merry-looking green things, all manners of floral formations, and round little doors of every possible colour— and everywhere he turned, things looked alarmingly similar.

 Things might have been somewhat easier, had he only deemed it appropriate to seek aid from the local residents, who aside from looking like oversized, beardless infants with elf ears and furry feet, seemed like a harmless and cordial enough bunch.

 But Thorin was Thorin, and like any self-respecting dignitary, he was far above interrogating hobbits for directions. Besides, he certainly didn’t want to spook the little creatures; he was almost sure that if he’d so much as sneezed too hard in these parts, he would either knock something over, send something flying, or, Mahal forbid, kill an unsuspecting hobbit, whose only crime would be minding his own business when a dwarven prince came a-strutting, and _achoo_ — he’d be off in the air and tumbling into something sharp and possibly fatal. That would be very unfortunate, and highly embarrassing.

 So Thorin pushed on, his cloak bellowing in wind and a determined scowl on his face.

When he finally caught the faint glimmer of a strange rune in the corner of his eye, he nearly broke into a sprint before he caught himself, grunted and strode up the little hill in a decidedly unhurried manner, lest anyone who happened to peek through the round little windows spot him in an undignified rush.

 One does not simply ring the doorbell, so Thorin pounded on the door instead. He was definitely not bitter about being excluded from whatever merry-making and destruction that (from the sound of it) was evidently taking place inside.

 Striking an elegant yet imposing pose against the darkened sky, Thorin turned towards opening door, pinning his host with a measured gaze.

 The hobbit looked _much_ older and taller than he expected. Was that a—

 Of course.

 “Gandalf.”

 

His host, as it turned out, was an ordinary hobbit—or as ordinary as any hobbit could be when he gazed at Thorin with an intensity that bordered on frightening.

 When they were introduced and his prospective burglar only responded with an odd squeal, Thorin allowed himself to be slightly troubled. Surely, he hadn’t trekked all this way for some deranged (though sweet-looking) little dimwit?

 Thorin circled him, watching with alarm as the hobbit nearly toppled over himself in his attempt to keep his eyes fixed on Thorin.

 “Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin drawled.

 The hobbit continued to stare at him.

 “Axe or Sword,” Thorin somehow had to force back a shiver. “What’s your weapon of choice?”

 Bilbo made another strangled sound, but at Gandalf’s warning cough, seemed to finally regain some of his wits.

 “Oh! How embarrassing—I’m dreadfully sorry, master dwarf,” he said with an innocence so convincing that it must have been feinted. “I’m afraid I’ve quite lost you for a moment there.”

 He even had the audacity to smile at Thorin bashfully.

 Thorin stared at the hobbit, but remembering himself, quickly changed it into a death glare. He was trying desperately to formulate his next biting remark when the beam of the roof let out a sudden chuckle.

 “Thorin!” The roof beam, who turned out to be a certain Wizard, exclaimed. “You must be starving! Do come down this way, food and drinks will be served. Isn’t that right, Bilbo.” He proceeded to almost throw the dwarf down the hall, even as he turned to speak in a whisper the strangest syllables Thorin have ever heard:  “逆还号吧，巴金斯烙爷。”

 “没事，没事，” the hobbit responded in kind. Thorin head shot back in surprise, momentarily forgetting his desire to decapitate Gandalf, but his view was obstructed by a dozen of shuffling dwarves who looked more than a little excited at the prospect of returning to the dining table.

 Snippets of a strange conversation still managed to drift down the hall.

 “逆这是怎么灰事“ “——你说他是 _谁_ _!_?” “——还有湿物吗——“ “ _你说呢_!”

 Thorin, after being showered with the enthusiastic greetings of his fellow dwarves, found himself seated at the end of a long table, staring down rows cheerful and obviously well-fed dwarven faces. He seemed to have missed dinner.

Gandalf returned to the table, and a moment later the hobbit scuffled over as well, carrying—thank Mahal—what seemed like a tray of food. He eyed the tray nonchalantly as it was placed in front of him, trying his best to ignore how the hobbit nearly stumbled into his lap in the process, and caught sight of a lone bowl of muddy soup and a basket of—tomatoes.

Well. Very well.

His dwarves, who had already had their fills, interrupted his meal incessantly with interrogations of quests and cowards, which quite unfortunately did not kill his appetite. When he eventually finished the bowl of surprisingly good soup (and of course he couldn’t ask for seconds), he had no choice but to move on to the suspiciously well-formed tomatoes.

He had reached for a tomato when he accidentally caught the hobbit’s eyes, which gave him such a start that he almost dropped it. The hobbit stared at him expectantly, an eager gaze alternating between the tomato and Thorin, who gulped internally and quickly turned to reexamine the tomato.

It was still a tomato, and as suspicious as it now looked, it couldn’t possibly be anything else in disguise. Perhaps it was some sort Shire variety that turned dwarven princes into quacking monsters, or worse, giant bunnies?

But Bilbo Baggins certainly had no previous dispute with him, and as much as he loathed to admit so, Thorin did have a certain amount of trust in Gandalf. He glanced at the hobbit again, who as positively leaning forward in anticipation. Oh the pressure.

Thus, it was with a thumping (and courageous) heart that Thorin Oakenshield raised the tomato, red as blood, to his lips, and sending a silent prayer to Mahal, he took an experimental bite.

It was a tomato.

A delightfully delicious one, but still very much a tomato. He glanced around the room in triumph, and almost gagged at the sight of the hobbit, who looked like he was about to die from pleasure. There was something suspiciously like overjoyed tears in his eyes.

And Ori, Thorin noted with alarm, was giving him a look of unadulterated jealousy.

“You’ve got tomato juice running down your beard,” observed Dwalin beside him.

The hobbit immediately sprung to action. Out of nowhere he conjured a piece floral doily and preceded to dap the juice out of Thorin’s beard.

“Oh, Master Thorin!” cried the hobbit. “We can’t have that beautiful beard soiled— ”

“What—no, NO thank you,” Thorin sputtered as he almost tumbled out of his chair. “Stop it—no, it’s okay, really, I’m sure. Oh no, no, that’s enough.”

But Bilbo continued muttering nonsense, almost bringing down Thorin with him as he threw his entire weight into the cleaning.

His patience waning and embarrassment rising, Thorin finally roared: “STOP IT!”

The hobbit froze, his (too-close) face staring at Thorin in shock. Then he finally backed away, stuttering out apologies while his entire _head_ blushed.

Thorin, feeling no less flushed himself, sat back down with a grunt. The rest of the dwarves exhibited a wide range of facial expression, and Dwalin looked suspiciously like he had been holding a very long breath and was trying not to crack a rib.

Gandalf coughed. “Bilbo, my dear fellow! Let us have a little more light.”

 

 

And by the time the hobbit fainted at the mention of incineration, Thorin was so disturbed by the whole affair that he almost forgot to let out a disdainful snort.

 

 

*     *     *

 Bilbo醒过来的时候，只觉得屁股挺疼。

 “逆还好吗，巴金斯烙爷。”Gandalf面色深沉。

 Bilbo发了一会儿呆。然后他这才突然反应过来：“哦！”

 “逆已经在这坐了太唱时间了！告诉我，什么时候你的番茄和受绢对逆来说变得这么重要？我还记的当年那个念少轻狂的小货子！”

 Bilbo咬牙切齿的听着，心想这说的是人话吗。

 “甘老头，你这是绝对故意的，” Bilbo终于忍不住说。“不过你错了，你休想用美色勾引走我。”

 Gandalf很无辜的眨眨眼，随后恍然大悟的吸一口气。

“逆……难道是在硕Thorin？”

“您这是明知故问，还是明知故问？”Bilbo激烈的说，然后叹口气，脑袋垂在椅背上。“别算计我了。我早已经改过自新，重新做霍比特了。I’m a Baggins, of Bag End!”

“哦！卧不是那个意思，”Gandalf连忙说。“难道逆不想去看看外面的世界？妹丽的山脉，壮罐的溪流？或者……像逆增增祖父那样，跨下大马，怀抱妹人，斩下哥布林头领的头颅，看低人血流成河，尸骨撑山！”

Bilbo差点再次晕过去。他今晚不用睡觉了。

“如果我去了的话，还回得来吗？” Bilbo最终问道。

“不，就算汇来了，逆也不再是逆了。”

“我就知道，”Bilbo叹气道。

 

Bilbo坐在自己的小床上，听着低沉有力的歌声从隔壁传来。

原来那货不但长得美，歌声也很动听。身材也好。

Bilbo很纠结的想着这档子可笑的冒险计划。让他去偷恶龙的宝贝——亏那老头子想得出来，他要怎么偷？卖萌把Smaug活活萌死？

他当然不可能去什么冒险，不管带队的长成什么样。他这一把岁数了，早该过了花痴的阶段，再说他这破毛病，除了给他带来无数的心碎和麻烦，什么用也没有。

 不过，他曾经是那么向往着异域的风景，亲眼看到传说中才有的场面……

矮人们的歌声还在继续，这么大规模的合唱没人跑调实在是令人惊叹。

Bilbo就是随着这歌声缓缓入睡。睡梦中，他的脑海充满了跳动的火焰，手感不错但沾满番茄汁的胡子，和美丽并高傲的蓝色眼睛……

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter; had to do some blood tests which required a frightening amount of blood. I spent the whole week feeling like I've been attacked by a vampire.


End file.
